


No Kingdom to Come

by Bardling



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bratting, Breeding, Come Marking, Daddy Kink, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Forced Orgasm, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Praise Kink, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Big Dick, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Puppy Play, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Spanking, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Subspace, Switch Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Switch Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling
Summary: My heart is thrilled by the still of your handIt's how I know now that you understandThere's no plan, there's no race to be runThe harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sunThere's no plan, there's no kingdom to comeOr, the one where Jaskier gets fed up with Geralt's bratting and decides to do something about it. Enter a few bar patrons getting punched, edging, and a well overdue spanking.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	No Kingdom to Come

**Author's Note:**

> Elder translations:  
> Me minne - My love  
> gwyn bleidd - white wolf
> 
> Welcome to my incredibly filthy Bottom!Geralt fic that is unabashedly kinky and smutty. Kudos and comments are always welcome and very appreciated! If you'd like to see more like this, let me know :)

Jaskier considers himself to be a patient man. He really does. 

Maybe not as forbearing as his stoical Witcher, but still rather patient. 

This extends to most things in his life. He’s patient with songwriting and singing, storytelling and conversation, even with Geralt’s seemingly never ending crotchety attitude that Jaskier has never once snapped at him for having. 

But even humble bards have their limits. 

Jaskier reaches his, not when Geralt ‘accidentally’ spills all of his linseed oil all over his doublet. Not when Geralt makes a huge, cantankerous arse of himself at a decently esteemed banquet that Jaskier was requested to play at. No, Jaskier reaches his limit later the next night. 

Admittedly, the last straw isn’t entirely Geralt’s fault…

***

“Jaskier, why are we here? You know I hate crowded taverns.” Geralt says, the disdain clear in his voice. 

“We, my boorish Witcher, are here because you have stressed me out beyond belief this week and I need a plentiful amount of alcohol to wash it away.” Jaskier says oddly cheerfully, punctuating his words with a  _ boop _ to Geralt’s nose with his pointer finger. 

Geralt scrunches his nose and grunts, making no effort to hide his annoyance and discomfort. Normally Jaskier would care and try to get them out of there as soon as possible, but Geralt has been such a pain in his arse that he can’t be bothered to wait on the Witcher’s hand and foot this time. 

Just as Jaskier expected, Geralt makes no move to get up and leave the tavern. He just sits back in his chair in the back left corner and broods.

‘How predictable.’ Jaskier thinks as he wanders up to the bar to order for himself. Normally Jaskier would also order for Geralt, but he’ll be damned if he does a service for that man while he’s acting like a petulant child. 

The bard leans against the bar and gives the maiden a charming smile, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the wood. 

“What can I get you, darling?” She asks, returning Jaskier’s smile and amiable approach. 

“Whatever comes in the biggest tankard.” He says, chuckling softly albeit tiredly. 

“Rough day?” She questions, her head tilting with seemingly genuine curiosity. 

Jaskier laughs, his shoulders shifting slightly with the tenuous movement. “More like a rough week.” He says, his brain replaying flashes of Geralt’s ostentatious behavior from the past seven days. 

The bar maiden nods. “I see, I see. I think I’ve got just the thing for you. Normally it comes in smaller chalices, but I can tell you’ll need more than that to remedy your Witcher sized headache.” She says, turning around to get Jaskier’s drink. 

Jaskier looks up from where he was previously gazing at the table. 

“Wait I never mentioned- he’s staring at me, isn’t he?” Jaskier asks, a groan mixing in at the end of his sentence. 

The bar maiden turns back around and sets his drink down in front of him, laughing in amusement. 

“Oh yeah, he has been since you stood up to walk over here. Hasn’t taken his eyes off you.” She says, trying to hide her cheeky smile. 

Jaskier sighs and picks up the almost comically large tankard. 

“Thank you for this. I’m going to drown my sorrows in it now and attempt to lighten the snowy mountain’s mood.” He says, gesturing to Geralt before setting down a few coins and walking back to Geralt’s table. 

Geralt, who now has a tankard himself, looks up at Jaskier with a hint of  _ something  _ in his amber eyes. Jaskier can’t tell exactly what that  _ something _ is, but with how this week has gone… it can’t be anything good. 

“Now what? You’ve already gone and laid your claim on me in front of the bar maiden, so go ahead and say whatever it is you’re thinking.” Jaskier says, one hand on his hip while the other tilts his tankard to his lips. His drink is sweet and smells of a concoction of fruits, certainly not unpleasant. 

“I want to leave.” Geralt says flatly, his grip on the tankard handle tightening. It’s a slight movement that Jaskier barely notices, but Geralt’s right ear twitches. It’s a tell that he’s listening to something further away. 

“You made that clear the moment we walked in here, Geralt. But pray tell, why exactly do you want to leave?” Jaskier asks, looking at Geralt over the top of his tankard. 

Geralt growls and glances over at a group of men in the adjacent corner, the heat of anger ever-present in his gaze. 

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” He answers, his eyes focusing back in on Jaskier. 

Jaskier takes a long pull of his drink before setting it down firmly on the table. “You don’t like the way they’re looking at me? I hate to break it to you, White Wolf, but people other than you are capable of finding me attractive.” He says, a hint of crassness flooding his tone. 

Geralt glares daggers up at Jaskier. “Yes, but they’re looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. Like they  _ own _ you. They don’t own you,  _ I  _ do.” He says, his voice lowering and his death stare shifting back to the men in the corner. 

“I am not a commodity to be bought and sold, Geralt. If being here is so bothersome, you’re more than welcome to go up to the room.” Jaskier says shortly, finishing off his drink and wandering back to get another tankard. 

While the bard talks to the maiden again, he doesn’t notice Geralt standing up. Or Geralt walking over to the table where the obnoxious men are sitting. 

What he does notice is when Geralt speaks, his voice much closer than it was a few moments ago. 

“Oh sweet Melitele.” Jaskier groans, taking a large swig of his wine before walking over to what will likely soon be a fight.

“Keep your wandering eyes and thoughts about my bard to yourself.” Geralt growls at one of the men, his eyes glowing angrily. 

The man just laughs. “Your bard? From what I’ve heard, he’s half the continent’s bard. I hear he’s great in the sack too, was hoping I could sample him myself.” He says, and Jaskier practically sees Geralt’s patience flee.

Jaskier doesn’t move quick enough, and one of the other men’s hands comes down on his ass. He yelps, but immediately grabs the offender’s wrist and twists it painfully.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to touch what isn’t yours?” Jaskier spits, revelling in the pained gasp the man gives out. 

Jaskier’s attention is quickly pulled to Geralt, who now has the first man pulled halfway across the table by his collar. 

“If you so much as say another word about or lay another finger on him, I’ll kill you all where you stand.” Geralt says, his tone dead serious.

Jaskier drops the second man’s wrist and watches as Geralt drops the other one, turning his back and returning to his table. Geralt picks up his tankard and drains it, then waves the bar maiden over for another one.

He turns to pick his own drink up off the bar, and hears another voice from the table of men.

“Fuckin’ Witchers. Good for nothing bastards.” One man says.

Another man laughs. “Yeah, and I doubt that sterile freak is doing anything to satisfy the piece of ass he’s got.”

Jaskier stops mid-swallow and slams his tankard down. All he sees is red as he walks over to the table in three long strides. 

He smiles at the men and looks down at them. “Hi.” He says, tilting his head.

“Hey there, pretty.” The man who made the first comment says.

Jaskier doesn’t respond this time, he just pulls his hand back and clenches his fist, punching the asshole square in the nose. He hears his unconscious body hit the tavern floor and huffs out a laugh.

He turns to his right and faces the man who made the second comment and smiles, then punches him hard right where the jaw meets the ear. 

“The only good for nothing bastards here are the lot of you.” Jaskier says to the remaining three men, then picks up his tankard and walks back to Geralt like nothing happened.

“Jaskier did you just…” Geralt starts, but trails off and looks at Jaskier with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“Yes, yes I did. You’re welcome by the way.” Jaskier says, straightening the rings on his fingers before shaking out the sting in his hand. 

Geralt blinks at Jaskier and watches as he straightens his rings. His bard just knocked two grown men out like it was nothing. ‘ _ His hands are so pretty _ .’ The Witcher thinks to himself, admiring Jaskier’s slender and deft fingers. ‘ _ But they’d look even better around my-’  _ He starts thinking, but his train of thought is derailed when Jaskier grabs him by the front of his armor and pulls him close.

“Stop undressing me with your eyes in front of all these people and get your ass upstairs. Armor off. I want you on the bed waiting when I get up there. And do  _ not _ touch yourself. I swear to gods if you so much as touch a pinky to that cock, I’ll make you beg and cry so loud the whole inn will hear you.” Jaskier growls deeply, letting go of Geralt and shoving him towards the stairs.

Geralt swallows thickly and nods, quickly standing and scrambling up the stairs. Jaskier sits in the chair Geralt just left and smirks into his tankard as he sits back and takes the time to properly enjoy his drink. 

That, and he’s giving Geralt time to follow his instructions. 

Gods, Geralt is going to be the death of him. But oh, how beautifully flustered he looked just from Jaskier’s words alone. Jaskier doesn’t think he’s seen Geralt move that fast in all the years they’ve been travelling together.

‘I’m going to  _ ruin _ him.’ Jaskier thinks to himself as he sips his wine, his heart hammering in his chest with the leftover adrenaline from the fight. The bard feels his cock start to harden in his trousers as he thinks about all the things he wants to do to Geralt. 

‘He’s long overdue for a spanking, for one.’ Jaskier thinks, realizing he should’ve tanned Geralt’s backside after the banquet incident, but his patience held on strong until now. He wouldn’t have had to knock those men out if Geralt hadn’t gotten up and confronted them. They wouldn’t have even been in the tavern if Geralt hadn’t been a brat all week.

‘And he needs to be taught a lesson about who owns who, for two.’ Jaskier’s brain adds, which makes his cock twitch. 

‘ _ Fuck it.’  _ He thinks, then sets his tankard down and gets up from the table.

Jaskier takes the stairs two at a time and can’t help but think about Geralt the entire way up to their room. He stumbles, because two tankards of sweet wine will do that to a man. But he needs to see Geralt. To feel him. To  _ hear _ him. Gods, he needs to be inside of him three days ago.

It’s not often that Jaskier gets like this, a possessive force of dominant energy. Usually Geralt is the one filling those boots and Jaskier is the one getting pulled over leather-clad thighs or fucked within an inch of his life… but occasionally, something sets Jaskier off and their roles reverse.

Jaskier knows he made it clear to Geralt what his role is tonight.

Once the bard reaches the door, he doesn’t open it immediately. Instead, he takes a few moments to compose himself and listens very closely from the other side. That’s when he hears the familiar panting and borderline whining of one very desperate Witcher.

Skillfully, Jaskier turns the knob without making a sound. He leans against the doorframe, calm and collected. He can tell from the sight before him that Geralt is too distracted to notice his presence in the room.

In front of him, Geralt is on the bed rutting shamelessly into one of the pillows. He truly is a sight to behold, the firm muscles in his back on full display and rippling with each roll of his hips. He’s shirtless, but still wearing his sinfully tight pants. Just like Jaskier told him to. 

Jaskier clears his throat. “Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde...” He starts, standing up straight and striding over to the bed. He grabs a fistful of Geralt’s hair and yanks his head back, none too gently. “What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?” He asks, his voice a low growl.

Geralt, for what it’s worth, stops his movements immediately after he hears Jaskier clear his throat. ‘ _ Fuck.’  _ He thinks, staring down at the sheets. Geralt knows he’s screwed. He shudders and audibly whimpers upon hearing his full name said in such a stern manner.

The older man winces at the sharp tingle in his scalp as Jaskier pulls his hair.

“I- you said not to touch my cock, so I’m not. I needed  _ something _ , Jaksier. I couldn’t help it.” Geralt says, trying to make a case for himself. He has little faith that it will actually work.

Jaskier tsks and shakes his head, then tugs Geralt’s hair again so that he’s looking down into warm amber eyes. “Geralt, baby, that’s horse shit and you know it.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I made it very clear that you were not to touch yourself, did I not?” Jaskier asks, chuckling satisfactorily when Geralt squirms.

“Yes, Jaskier. You did.” Geralt says, averting his gaze.

Jaskier’s grip tightens and Geralt whines. “I’m sorry, yes what?” The bard asks expectantly.

Geralt grumbles. They’re still too soon into this for Geralt to be compliant and Jaskier knows this. “Yes,  _ Julian _ .” He growls, trying to get up and turn onto his back.

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not going anywhere.” Jaskier says, letting go of Geralt’s hair and firmly holding him in place with both hands. “What did I tell you I’d do if you touched yourself?” He asks, trailing one hand down Geralt’s side.

Geralt stills. He swallows and suddenly feels a lot smaller. “You… said that you’ll make me beg.” He answers, biting his bottom lip.

“And? I’ll make you beg and what?” Jaskier asks, running his hand over Geralt’s firm ass.

“You’ll make me beg and cry so loud that… the entire inn will hear me.” Geralt answers through gritted teeth.

“Mm, there it is. Good boy.” Jaskier says, squeezing Geralt’s ass roughly. Geralt’s breath catches in his throat.

“Up.” Jaskier commands, taking his hands off of Geralt’s backside. Geralt sits up and looks at Jaskier, his pupils wide with want.

Jaskier sits on the edge of the bed beside Geralt, then points at the floor. “Kneel.” He instructs, waiting for Geralt to comply. 

It takes a few moments for the command to register, but soon the Witcher is clambering off the bed and onto the wood floor. His knees hit the wood quickly, albeit gracelessly. Geralt looks down, focusing on a wood slat that is a few shades off from the rest. He says nothing, knowing that Jaskier will ask him to speak if he wants him too. 

Jaskier watches as Geralt kneels. He can tell his lover is falling into submission by how perfectly he positions himself. Just the way Jaskier likes. The bard looks down at his wolf and takes a minute to appreciate the view. 

Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, is half naked and kneeling at his feet. Waiting for his next word. On the brink of total submission and clearly hard in his trousers. Jaskier, a seemingly unassuming bard, has one of the strongest men on the Continent vulnerable and desperate. It’s an honor that would give anyone a head rush. 

“Before we get into anything, we’re going to have a conversation. You know that if at any point you want to stop, you just say the word. Can you tell me your word out loud, my love?” Jaskier asks, waiting for Geralt’s response before continuing with anything. 

“My word is Blaviken.” Geralt answers, still unable to bring himself to look into Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Good boy.” Jaskier praises, cupping Geralt’s jaw and brushing his cheek with his thumb, which makes Geralt shift where he kneels. “Now, I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer truthfully. Do you understand?” He asks, his voice soft but stern. 

“Yes, I understand.” Geralt says, nodding slightly. 

“Good. First, why have you decided to act out so much lately? I thought surely you were just in a bad mood after the oil incident, but the banquet proved me wrong. Then the bath incident. And even tonight. So tell me, Geralt, why have you been a brat?” Jaskier says, tilting Geralt’s chin up to look at his face. 

Geralt sighs. “I… because I want- I need you. I was trying to get your attention. I was trying to get… this.” He says quietly, finally meeting Jaskier’s eyes when he tells him that he needs him.

Jaskier rubs gentle circles where he’s holding Geralt’s chin. The bard hums, satisfied with Geralt’s answer. “Good boy, Geralt. I’m proud of you for telling me.” He praises, brushing Geralt’s hair away from his face with his free hand.

“But you know that acting out is not how we get what we want. How do we get what we want, darling?” Jaskier asks, raising an eyebrow in question.

“We- I have to use my words, Sir.” Geralt answers, saying Jaskier’s title so quietly that the other man barely hears it.

“And what happens to brats who act out?” Jaskier asks, his expression stern.

Geralt looks down, equally embarrassed as turned on. “They get punished, Sir.” He says, his cheeks coloring such a slight shade of pink that only Jaskier would notice.

Jaskier hums and grips Geralt’s chin tighter, making him look back up. “That’s right,  _ me minne _ .” He says, watching as his boyfriend squirms in response to him speaking Elder. “And you,  _ gwyn bleidd _ , have been the brattiest boy I’ve ever seen as of lately.” He adds.

Geralt whines and looks up at Jaskier, his amber eyes pleading wordlessly. 

Jaskier motions upward with two fingers, a silent command that Geralt knows well. “Your puppy dog eyes aren’t going to get you out of this.” Jaskier says, chuckling when Geralt pouts and stands up.

Even though Geralt is the one standing, Jaskier feels like he could dwarf even the tallest castle. Something about dominating Geralt makes him feel so powerful, even though Geralt is truly the one with the power here. AS the submissive always is.

Jaskier motions for Geralt to come forward, which he does eagerly and almost instantly. Jaskier looks up at him and runs a hand from his bare chest down to his sinfully tight pants. “You’re so pretty, Geralt.” He muses, admiring Geralt’s muscles as well as his scattered scars.

Geralt grumbles. “Pretty is not a word that describes me.” He says, but tries to hide the darkening blush on his cheeks.

Jaskier grips Geralt’s hip tight and firm. “I’m sorry, what was that? Because from down here, it sounded like you were arguing with me.” He says, giving Geralt one chance to correct himself.

“Nothing, Sir. Thank you for calling me pretty.” Geralt says, which earns him a satisfied smile from Jaskier.

“That’s what I thought.” The younger man says, pulling Geralt closer. He leans forward and presses soft, appreciative kisses across his Witcher’s abdomen and hips. He can feel how Geralt’s muscles twitch under his feather-light touches. With skilled and graceful fingers, Jaskier makes quick work of untying Geralt’s trousers and shoving them down his thick thighs. He is both delighted and surprised to discover that Geralt has nothing on under them.

“Wishful thinking, hm?” Jaskier asks, chuckling softly.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums (*agreeing).

“Well, maybe it won’t be for nothing. You’ll just have to be good for me for the rest of the night.” Jaskier says, then readjusts himself and spreads his legs a little wider. “Come on now, over my knees.” He says, looking up at Geralt and then pointing at his lap.

Geralt blinks slowly, not quite processing what Jaskier is telling him to do. “But I’m too…” He starts to say, but is shushed by Jaskier.

“You certainly are not too big. And I won’t tell you again. Over my knees, now.” Jaskier commands, leaving no room for any more of Geralt’s backtalk.

Geralt nods quickly and shuffles awkwardly to get his pants all the way off, then climbs onto the bed and over Jaskier’s clothed lap. He bites his lip as his hard cock drags against the material of Jaskier’s trousers. He can’t believe that his bard is actually following through on spanking him. It’s not that he doesn’t want it, because  _ gods _ he does… it’s just that it takes  _ a lot _ to bruise or even redden the skin of a Witcher. Surely if Jaskier wanted to punish him like he said, he’d choose something more effective? Something that would last?

Geralt is pulled from his mildly dazed thoughts by Jaskier’s hand stroking up and down his back. 

“Do you know why I’m spanking you tonight, Geralt?” Jaskier asks, because he needs to know for Geralt’s safety that he understands and is still consenting.

“Because I’ve been a misbehaving brat all week and I’ve earned it, Sir.” Geralt answers quietly, but clearly.

“That is correct. And how have you misbehaved?” Jaskier continues.

“I spilled your linseed oil on you on purpose, Sir.” Geralt answers, biting his lip as Jaskier squeezes his ass. 

Jaskier makes a noise that Geralt knows means ‘go on.’

“And I made an arse of myself and you at the banquet, which cost you a lot of coin.” He says, wincing internally. He never meant for it to go that badly, he was just getting tired of everyone fawning over  _ his  _ bard and touching what wasn’t theirs. He just wanted to get Jaskier’s attention and leave. But it hadn’t been that easy.

“And then I didn’t get the bath water when you told me to, so you had to get it yourself.” Geralt concludes, intentionally leaving out the part from tonight.

“I think you’re forgetting one.” Jaskier says, punctuating his words with a rougher squeeze of Geralt’s supple flesh.

‘So much for that.’ Geralt thinks, groaning softly as Jaskier’s short nails bite into his skin just slightly.

“I… also started a fight tonight that I shouldn’t have. And complained about being there after you told me not to.” Geralt concedes.

“Mm, and why did you start that fight?” Jaskier asks, patiently waiting for Geralt’s answer.

It takes the older man a few moments to gather his words.

“Because they were talking about you and looking at you like you were some cheap thing they could put their dicks in. But you’re  _ not. _ You’re so much more than that. You’re beautiful and smart and strong. Jaskier, you’re more talented than everyone in this town put together. And you’re  _ mine _ , not theirs. I needed them to know that.” Geralt says, sounding bitter as he talks about the men but soft as he talks about Jaskier.

Jaskier is glad Geralt can’t see his face right now, because the air of dominance leaves it for a second. His expression softens and his eyes are full of adoration. He knows that Geralt means every word of what he says, and it all goes straight to his heart. But they’ll have time to be sentimental later. 

Jaskier has a lesson to teach Geralt right now.

“While I appreciate you defending my honor, I think you need a refresher on who belongs to who.” Jaskier says, resting his hand on Geralt’s ass. “How many do you think you’ve earned?” He asks, keeping his voice calm and clear.

Geralt makes a noise in the back of his throat and squirms on Jaskier’s lap. Jaskier says nothing, but holds him still with two firm hands.

“Twenty five?” Geralt suggests.

Jaskier considers this for a minute.

“I think that’s fair. Five for each time you misbehaved.” He says, giving Geralt’s ass a squeeze again.

Geralt nods silently, trying desperately to ignore his throbbing cock.

“Be a good boy and don’t forget to count them.” Jaskier reminds him.

“Yes Sir.” Geralt says, slightly muffled by the sheets pressed against his face.

Jaskier places one hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades and lifts the other from his ass, bringing it down in one swift motion. It’s not his full strength by any means, and he knows Geralt barely feels it, but he has to warm them both up to it.

“One. Thank you, Sir.” Geralt says, his face turned so his words aren’t muffled by the linens.

Jaskier’s cock twitches in his pants when Geralt  _ thanks  _ him, entirely unprompted.

Jaskier brings his hand down again, this time harder and on Geralt’s other cheek. Geralt still barely feels it, but he can tell that it was slightly harder than the first.

“Two. Thank you, Sir.” Geralt says, bracing himself for more swats that he knows are going to come.

“Good boy.” Jaskier praises, smirking to himself when Geralt hides his face in the sheets again. He brings his hand down on Geralt’s left cheek again, this time significantly harder and faster.

The force behind it catches Geralt off guard and he gasps, feeling the slightest sting in his ass before the feeling fades. “Three. Thank you, Sir.” He says after the initial shock.

It goes on like that for a while, Jaskier alternating which cheek his hand lands on and gradually increasing how hard he spanks Geralt. After some time, Jaskier seems to hit the magic number because Geralt lets out a raw whimper and jolts in his lap. 

“S-sixteen. Thank you, Sir.” Geralt stutters out, his hips rolling against Jaskier’s firm thigh. He doesn’t know how, but somehow his ass is  _ stinging _ . His bard has managed to make his ass sting and he can only assume that his skin is starting to get red too.

“You’re taking them so well, puppy.” Jaskier coos. Geralt squirms more and outright  _ moans _ from the pet name. 

“Ah ah, stay still. Nine more.” Jaskier says, chuckling at his flustered Witcher and biting his lip as his cock reacts to Geralt’s gloriously wrecked moan.

Jaskier aims slightly lower this time, his strikes still perfectly calculated and controlled. His hand lands right where Geralt’s upper thigh meets his cheek, a particularly sensitive spot no matter one’s status.

Geralt jolts again and moans even louder, the sound dying down into a high whine in the back of his throat. “Seventeen. Thank you, S-Sir.” Geralt breathes out, his voice rough with need.

Jaskier rubs his hand over the spot soothingly before giving the other side the same treatment. He holds Geralt down this time to make sure he doesn’t jolt too hard.

“Eighteen. Thank you, Sir.” Geralt says, pressing himself back into Jaskier’s touch. He needs more. He needs Jaskier to touch him all over. He needs  _ everything. _

Jaskier doubles down after twenty. His swats land harder and faster on Geralt’s now rosy, heated ass. Each one leaves a matching sting in his palm, but feeling different than the last. He has to exert extra force to press Geralt down and stop him from rutting himself to orgasm against his leg.

“T-Twenty five! Thank you, Sir.” Geralt cries out once Jaskier’s hand comes down for the last time, his face red as saccharine tears stream down his pale skin. “Please, please. I need you.” He whimpers, pressing himself against his bard desperately.

Jaskier rubs his hand over Geralt’s ass and thighs once he finishes spanking him. “There you go. You were such a good boy for me, Geralt. You took your punishment so well. We’re all done now.” He says softly, gently trailing his hand up and down Geralt’s back.

Geralt whines and tries to get up to face Jaskier, but struggles due to how far under he is.

“Aw baby, too far gone to get yourself up? Let me help, love. Come here.” Jaskier says, his voice calming and sweet like honey. He shuffles back and grabs Geralt with two strong hands, rolling him onto his back. 

Geralt winces as his tender ass rubs against the rough linens. “Thank you, Sir.” He says, his voice soft and his body pliant. 

Jaskier smiles and runs his hand through Geralt’s mildly sweaty hair, then continues to move him up the bed so that he’s resting against the pillows. All of the movement has Geralt wiggling, his feet still trapped in the pants around his calves.

“Jaskier please.” He says roughly, looking down at his throbbing cock. He’s been hard since Jaskier knocked those men out downstairs and his cock shows it, dark red and leaking pre-cum all over his toned stomach.

Jaskier stands up from the bed and slowly removes his doublet. He makes sure Geralt is watching and makes a show of removing each article of clothing until he’s completely naked. Even though the light is dim, Geralt can make out all the details of Jaskier’s nude form. His thin but firm, hirsute chest. His strong thighs. His hard, thick cock.

Jaskier kicks his discarded clothes to the side and kneels on the bed, crawling almost predatorily up to Geralt. He looks him up and down, growling lowly as he drinks in his desperation like the wine downstairs not hours ago. He leans down, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a heated kiss. Geralt gasps softly and kisses Jaskier back eagerly, carding his fingers through the hair on the back of the bard’s head.

Jaskier kisses him harder, licking and nipping at Geralt’s bottom lip. He wants to taste him, feel his tongue slot against his own. He wants to claim him entirely, starting with his mouth. Geralt parts his lips quickly, moaning as Jaskier thrusts his tongue into his mouth.

As his tongue probes deeper and his kissing gets more aggressive, Jaskier slides his hand between their bodies and wraps it around Geralt’s cock. Geralt keens at this, his hips thrusting up into Jaskier’s hand. 

“Ah ah, no. Be a good puppy now. You take what I give you and not more, understand?” Jaskier says, punctuating his words with a bite to Geralt’s plush bottom lip.

Geralt groans, but nods. “Yes… I understand. I’ll be good.” He says, pressing his hips back down against the bed.

Jaskier hums, then kisses over from Geralt’s lips to his jaw. He presses open mouthed kisses there, slowly trailing down his lover’s neck. He can hear how his breathing picks up, how it hitches in his throat as his tongue slides up the tendon in his neck.

Suddenly, Jaskier bites down and sucks  _ hard _ . His tongue flicks and laps as he sucks a deep bruise into Geralt’s neck. At the same time, he starts stroking up and down his cock ever so slowly.

Torture is the first word that comes to Geralt’s mind. This is slow, sweet torture. But gods, will he let Jaskier do it for as long as he wants. He tilts his head to the side, giving Jaskier unrestricted access to his neck and throat. A wolf’s ultimate sign of trust and submission.

“There it is. Good boy.” Jaskier murmurs against Geralt’s neck, his voice husky.

Geralt keens, pressing himself closer to Jaskier as the younger man sucks a trail of marks that will inevitably be gone by morning. His twitch, but do not roll upwards or buck into Jaskier’s fist. Jaskier rewards him by speeding up, thumbing over the head of his cock with every few strokes. Geralt’s body jolts each time Jaskier’s thumb swipes over his sensitive glans, pulling a needy noise from his throat.

Jaskier just smirks and pushes Geralt’s head to the other side with two fingers on his jaw, marking the left side of his neck as he slowly takes Geralt apart with his hand. After deeming Geralt’s neck sufficiently bruised, he suddenly pulls back completely.

“Jaskier please.” Geralt groans, his cock twitching against stomach. “I was close.” He says almost pitifully.

If it were any other night, Jaskier might have taken pity on his poor wolf. But not tonight. No, Geralt has been far too disobedient for Jaskier to indulge him with anything. 

Geralt scrambles for Jaskier, pawing at his chest and trying to pull him back in. Jaskier, somehow, doesn’t budge. At all. Even though Geralt is very much using actual strength to tug at him. If he weren’t out of his mind with desperation, Geralt would be very concerned and questioning a lot of things. But he  _ is  _ out of his mind, so he doesn’t notice.

“Oh aren’t you just adorable. Thinking I’d let you come so soon. Or at all.” Jaskier says, chuckling softly. Geralt’s hand stills on Jaskier’s chest, no longer trying to pull him. He looks up at him, his warm amber eyes trained on near-predatory blue ones.

Jaskier grabs a vial of unscented oil that was seemingly discarded onto the bed, but neither of them actually got out of Geralt’s pack. It seems that Jaskier just… conjured it. Geralt’s eyes flick down, looking at the oil and then back up at Jaskier. 

Jaskier grins, then looks Geralt up and down. He takes in his slightly sweaty skin, his ever so slightly flushed face, his dripping and aching cock, his wanting body. 

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, Geralt. Truly.” Jaskier says, making Geralt furrow his brows in confusion.

“It's how I know now that you understand. There's no plan, baby. There's no race to be run. We can do this all night, until you’ve earned the sweet release that you keep trying so valiantly to achieve.” Jaskier continues. Geralt’s expression shifts to one of understanding. 

“Fuck. Jaskier please fuck me.” Geralt pleads, whimpering as he looks up at Jaskier.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun. There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come.” Jaskier sings seductively, oiling his fingers as Geralt squirms from his words alone. He knows exactly what singing like this does to him, too.

Geralt rolls his head back against the pillows and spreads his legs for Jaskier, giving him unrestricted access to the most vulnerable parts of him. Once Jaskier deems his fingers sufficiently oiled, he settles himself between Geralt’s thighs and spreads his legs wider with his free hand.

“You look good like this, puppy. Presenting yourself for me like a good little slut.” Jaskier says as he circles Geralt’s rim with the pad of an oiled finger. Geralt moans from the combined stimulation and degrading praise.

“M’ not little…” Geralt grumbles, covering his face with his arm.

“Mhm, sure you aren’t.” Jaskier teases, slowly breaching Geralt’s hole with his index finger.

Jaskier, once his first finger is fully seated, starts thrusting it in and out slowly. He revels in the ragged breathing of the man above him. His movements are calculated and deliberate, focused entirely on opening Geralt up to take his cock.

Geralt adjusts to his finger quickly, so Jaskier slides a second into his tight heat and scissors them as he thrusts in and out rhythmically. Geralt moans as Jaskier’s fingers work him open with years of mastered skill and refinery. The bard is careful to avoid Geralt’s prostate, much to the older man’s irritation. 

Geralt groans and starts rocking his hips down, taking Jaskier’s fingers deeper. He half expects Jaskier to hold him down or stop moving his hand, but instead he just smirks wickedly and licks his lips.

“You’re just a desperate slut, aren’t you Geralt? Begging for my cock with your words  _ and  _ your body.” Jaskier growls into Geralt’s ear, making him shiver and moan.

“Fuck. Yes Sir. I’m only a slut for you. I need you, please. Fuck me, Jaskier.” Geralt says, half breathless. 

“You want it that bad, hm? You can take me from just two fingers. Needy little puppy.” Jaskier says as he pulls his fingers out of Geralt’s clenching hole. His cock twitches as Geralt lets out the most needy whine he’s ever heard.

As quickly as he can, Jaskier oils his cock and lines the head up with Geralt’s loosened hole. He grabs Geralt firmly under his knees and pushes his legs up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. He guides himself with one hand and wraps the other around Geralt’s neglected cock, easing his length into Geralt’s tight ass inch by inch.

“J-Jaskier. Fuck.” Geralt cries out, arching his back as Jaskier seats his cock inside of him. He’s practically bent in half, and the position makes his cock leak pre-cum onto Jaskier’s hand.

“That’s the plan, love.” Jaskier says with a wink.

Once he bottoms out, Jaskier pulls back and starts thrusting. The unfiltered moan that Geralt lets out in response is  _ glorious _ . It’s the most beautiful song Jaskier has ever heard. He starts out slow to let Geralt adjust to his size, because two fingers probably wasn’t actually enough prep with how big his cock is. But then again, Geralt loves the stretch and the burn that comes with it. 

Jaskier can’t help himself. Geralt is so  _ tight _ and  _ hot _ . He starts thrusting faster, stroking Geralt’s cock as he sets his pace. The witcher lets out a deep moan and rocks his hips to meet Jaskier’s thrusts.   
  


“Fuck, puppy. You feel so good around my cock.” Jaskier moans, pressing Geralt’s knees to his chest as he fucks him deeper. Geralt gasps, his eyes rolling back as Jaskier hits his prostate with every roll of his hips.

“Daddy! Harder Daddy, please.” Geralt says with a moan, but quickly covers his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that. At all. Fuck fuck fuck Jaskier is going to think he’s weird. Oh no.

Jaskier’s eyes darken and he yanks Geralt’s hand away from his mouth, pinning it down beside him. 

“Say it again.” He growls, now thrusting into Geralt with abandon. The sound of skin slapping skin and unabashed moans fill the room, the smell of sex no doubt wafting into the hallway.

Geralt practically screams a moan as Jaskier rails him with a strength that cannot possibly be human. “Daddy! Fu-uck. Daddy please!” Geralt cries out, grabbing at Jaskier desperately. He wraps his arms around Jaskier’s neck, pulling him closer.

Jaskier moans loudly in response and leans down, folding Geralt entirely in half as he claims his mouth in a dominating kiss. “Good boy. You take Daddy’s cock so well. You sing so pretty for me too.” He grunts as he rocks in and out of Geralt’s hole, making an effort to grind right against his spot. He’s dangerously close to coming and filling Geralt’s ass, but he wants to make his lover beg first.

Geralt kisses him back eagerly, moaning as Jaskier sucks his tongue into his mouth.

“Please, please. I’m so close, Daddy. Let me cum?” Geralt asks when Jaskier pulls away, fixing his pleading amber eyes on Jaskier’s deep blue ones.

Jaskier hums, not slowing his thrusts. “No.” he says simply before firmly gripping the base of Geralt’s cock to stop him from coming before he’s given permission.

Geralt whimpers pathetically and doubles down on meeting Jaskier’s thrusts, rocking his hips with every movement. Jaskier huffs out a swear and moans deeply, starting to lose his rhythm as he gets closer to the edge.

“Breed me, Daddy. Please? I want to be full of your cum. Claim me, Sir.” Geralt begs loudly, his voice the very definition of fucked out.

And  _ shit _ . Jaskier was expecting Geralt to beg him for permission to cum, not beg for  _ his _ cum inside of him. He thrusts harder, deeper. It won’t take much more for him to cum and he knows it.

“Yeah? You want me to breed you, puppy? Want me to mark you with my cum?” He says, groaning loudly as Geralt clenches down  _ hard _ on his cock. “Fuck! Gonna fill you up, Geralt.” 

Geralt whimpers and moans, making no effort to quiet himself. “Please! Cum in me, cum in me. Fill me up, Daddy.” He chants, refusing to look away from Jaskier’s face as he chases his orgasm.

Jaskier thrusts hard and deep three more times and then he’s coming with a shout, burying his cock as deep inside Geralt as he can. His cock pulses and twitches as he shoots his load inside his lover. He takes his hand off of Geralt’s cock and keeps fucking him through his own orgasm.

“Cum.” Jaskier commands. 

Geralt  _ screams.  _ It’s like some magical force has taken over his mind and body and has catapulted him over the edge. Blinding white pleasure consumes him and his whole body feels hot as he paints Jaskier’s and his own chest with hot cum. 

“Daddy, Daddy I can feel you in my stomach.” He moans, weakly rolling his hips down onto Jaskier’s cock as he finally stops coming.

“Mm, such a good boy, Geralt. You took my cock so well.” Jaskier coos, peppering sweet kisses all over Geralt’s face before slowly pulling out of him.

He lets Geralt come down from his high as he quickly retrieves a cloth from their pack and a few rations to get their energy back up. It doesn’t take him more than a couple minutes, but when he returns, his wolf is already asleep. Jaskier cleans the oil and cum from his skin quickly, careful not to wake him. He makes a mental note to rub salve on Geralt’s ass later so his skin heals properly. The spanking he gave him was not gentle.

Once he deems Geralt sufficiently clean, he pulls the blankets back and cuddles up beside him. He takes the role of big spoon, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s scarred back and shoulder as he sleeps. Jaskier doesn’t know when he drifts off, but he does so not long after. They both rest for a while, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort.

When they both awaken, Jaskier is resting with his head on Geralt’s chest. They stay like that for some time, listening to the familiar sound of each other’s breathing and heartbeats. Geralt is the one to break the silence.

“Jaskier?” He asks, softly.

“Yes, my love?” He responds, tracing a pattern on Geralt’s skin.

The witcher sighs as he considers what he wants to say.

“Why did you punch those men? It wasn’t worth it.” He says after a short pause, turning his head to look at Jaskier.

Jaskier props himself up with his elbow and looks at Geralt with a soft expression.

“Because nobody fucks with my baby.” He answers, as if that’s the only explanation needed. “And everything is worth it for you, Geralt. I’d punch a thousand men in defense of your honor. I love you.” He adds, kissing Geralt’s temple.

Geralt smiles and grabs Jaskier by the chin, kissing him deeply on the lips. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing Bottom!Geralt, so I hope everyone like it :)
> 
> xx Jask


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